


oh, we're so disarming, darling

by allwyf



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, PWP, so much sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwyf/pseuds/allwyf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam decides he can have nice things, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, we're so disarming, darling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither penis nor experience.

Adam’s Fridays don’t usually go like this.

Usually, he’d get home from class, tidy his dorm room for the weekend, then do his homework over takeout until he passes out. But the professor cancelled the lecture in a last minute email, so Adam figures he can use coffee money for next week for the bus fare and hauls his ass back to Henrietta sans Gansey, who cried foul and very loudly wished he, too, could go back to Blue a day early.

Because, Adam finds it easier and easier to admit as time goes by, he’s not going to pass an opportunity to be with Ronan more. And besides, it will be a pretty nice surprise to be home at least 18 hours ahead of schedule.

When he arrives at the Barns, it’s already dark out. The windows of the house are emitting a warm glow and he hurries inside.

It’s quiet, which is a little disappointing. Ronan and Matthew are usually making a game of dinner prep at this hour but the kitchen is devoid of either Lynch, so he picks his way through the multitude of dream things on the floor (mostly quilts and pillows, as if Ronan is determined to make every surface his bed—“They’re cozy as hell, and I am not sorry,” he always insists) and proceeds to the upper floor.

He isn’t prepared for the sight when he opens their bedroom door.

Ronan is standing in front of the floor-length mirror, back turned to it, examining himself. Wearing lingerie. An ensemble of light green brassiere and panties, which Adam recognizes as _his_ , the undergarments he ordered online and hid before he went back to university last week.

His boyfriend doesn’t even look a bit mortified to be caught wearing such. In fact, Ronan looks a bit smug.

“Oh, hi, you’re here early,” is all he says, then reaches down to tug the panties back over his ass. It’s a tight fit because it’s Adam’s size, after all. Adam watches very carefully and tries to ignore the growing hunger in him that was not related to food _at all._

“I was actually about to call you.”

“Let me guess, to tell me what you’re wearing,” Adam deadpans, dropping his duffel and toeing off his shoes. Ronan gives him a feral grin.

“Well, yeah. And to thank you for them, of course. Although it’s kind of unusual for you to get my size wrong.”

Adam freezes on his way to Ronan. How does he begin telling him that the lingerie is Adam’s attempt at _splurging_ , because he’s never done it before and why not spend on something ridiculous?

Except, his valiant effort is now falling apart in so many ways because a) Ronan is already wearing it when he’s supposed to be the one taking it off Adam, and b) it’s looking less and less ridiculous the more Adam looks at Ronan. How could something contain so much lace and yet cover _so little_ at the same time?

“Because it’s not your size,” he treads, carefully. “I, uhh, bought it for myself.”

Ronan visibly deflates. If he isn’t wearing risqué garments, Adam would have thought it adorable. “But it was in my drawer. I thought it was a surprise.”

“I hid it in there because you only open your dress shirt drawer on Sundays. Was hoping I’d be back to hide it somewhere else before you noticed.”

He supposes it doesn’t matter at this point, because the objective was still (marginally) accomplished i.e. one of them is wearing it, and he’d rather get to the next part i.e. taking it off. Pronto.

Adam closes the distance between them and slings his arms over Ronan’s shoulders. He kisses the tip of Ronan’s nose. Ronan blushes. After all this time, it’s still the little displays of affection that breaks Ronan.

“Matthew borrowed a shirt for a school function, so I found it,” Ronan blurts.

He gives a noncommittal hum in response because he’s too busy peppering Ronan’s cheeks with tiny kisses.

“It looks good on you. I missed you so much.” He did, and Adam has gotten used to it, but it still catches him off-guard that he can feel so much for someone it’s sometimes hard to breathe. He’s waited so long for change to be good to him and Ronan is a flux that keeps on giving.

Adam removes a hand from the back of Ronan’s neck and hooks a finger under the shoulder strap, and then—he’s grinning, because—

“Yeah, I got _too_ excited and squeezed myself into this thing,” says Ronan, pointedly trying not to look at the tear near the slide adjuster. The lace hides it somewhat and Adam swallows. The cloth is unbelievably flimsy. He wants to rip them off with his teeth.

He slides his hands downwards, to the empty cups. Stretched, because they weren’t made for broad flat chests, and Adam’s brain is short-circuiting because it should be comical but it isn’t and heat is pooling down his groin and then—and then, his thumb catches on a nipple and Ronan lets out the most wanton gasp. Adam feels himself unspool, goes straight for his favorite spot under Ronan’s jaw, nipping at his pulse, at the same time Ronan grabs him by his belt hooks and pulls him closer. He’s already half-hard, and so is Ronan, so he hisses at the contact, and rocks their hips together for more.

The scrape of short, blunt nails on his arms startles him for a moment and he looks down, just a tiny bit dazed, only to get the full view of Ronan’s cock straining against the panties, and, _Christ,_ he wasn’t kidding when he said he squeezed himself into the damn thing. Adam forgets about the urgency he was feeling just a second ago. He reaches down and tugs at the tiny ribbon in front, before skimming the garter with his fingertips, ghosting over Ronan’s skin. Ronan shudders.

“Like what you see?” he asks, teasing, but his lips are pulled down at the corners in concentration.

He answers but opening his palm and pressing it against Ronan’s erection, eliciting a drawn-out groan. Ronan’s hips jerk forward, chasing friction. Adam complies by massaging with the heel of his hand, steady presses that make Ronan throw his head back and let out a colorful string of profanities.

“You kiss me with that mouth, young man?”

“Yes, I—ahh, Adam, _Adam_ , please, you asshole, you like it—”

“Immensely.” He licks the column of Ronan’s throat, letting his teeth scrape the prominence.

“Babe, kiss me, kiss me please—”

Adam does and suddenly he’s home, Ronan’s lips a more tangible stronghold than the Barns. As always, he’s crushed by the weight of getting to have _this_ after everything, after a dusty and violent childhood in the trailer park, after magical deaths and Cabeswater, and just. Everything in his life has led to this: saving himself, and having Ronan to stick with him as he does it. He supposes Ronan’s kisses are his lifeline now, and that’s okay.

“Hold on,” says Ronan, and Adam mourns pausing for a second, but then Ronan grips him by the waist and hitches him up, and Adam understands he meant _hold on_ literally, because, okay. Ronan is carrying him to their bed.

A laugh escapes him before he can help it. “You’re the sexiest Victoria’s Secret Angel,” he murmurs against Ronan’s cheek to answer Ronan’s questioning look.

“I’m what, now?” Ronan sits at the edge of the bed, setting Adam on his lap to straddle him.

“In too deep.”

They resume kissing, gentleness all but gone, and Adam takes, and takes and takes, his hands never still, exploring Ronan’s body as if memorizing it by touch alone—except he already knows it by heart, tucked away for lonely nights away in the city. Ronan is letting him, he gives and he gives, his hands steady on Adam’s thighs, anchoring, and his tongue yielding against Adam’s.

It feels like Ronan is making amends for all the time he took from Cabeswater and Adam gave to it.

So Adam makes his time worthwhile and kisses every part of him he can reach without disentangling. Traces Ronan’s lips with his tongue, biting his lower lip and pulling, nails grazing Ronan’s back and shoulders.

Adam is as careful in leaving marks as Ronan is avoiding making them and it’s a system they’ve established early on. Since Adam is always around _professionals_ (Ronan always says it like he would _animal cruelty,_ or _young corn_ ) and Ronan is always around cattle anyway, it works for them. He works a particularly nasty hickey on the junction of Ronan’s neck and shoulder, in a gap in his tattoo, as if he’s adding to it. Ronan scrabbles for purchase on Adam’s back as he does it, whispering, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

So okay, maybe Adam gets off on hearing Ronan’s reactions. Every sound goes straight to his painfully erect dick.

He pushes Ronan down to lie on his back. The view is spectacular: Ronan panting, flushed from his ears down to the waistband of the panties, the front so vividly wet with pre-come, the tip of his cock peeking from the seam.

"Changed my mind, the lingerie stays on,” Adam growls, mostly to himself. He didn’t expect to be this turned on by the sight of Ronan looking absolutely _wrecked_ in frilly underwear. Hell, he’s seen Ronan in less and he’s never been this aroused. He’s already recalling the online catalogue and imagining which ones would look good on Ronan, because, yes, he is officially making this a thing now.

Adam gets up on his knees and looms over Ronan, and kisses his way down: from swollen lips, to his goddamn neck, to scratched shoulders, then pulling the fabric down to swirl his tongue around a nipple. His hands are splayed on Ronan’s flat stomach, thumb rubbing circles at his skin. All the while, Ronan is making the most delicious noises, wrinkling Adam’s shirt as he clutches at it.

He presses more kisses to his stomach, nipping at his abs, mouth never leaving Ronan’s skin as he gets off the bed and kneels on the floor. He gives an experimental lick at Ronan’s crotch and Ronan hips push upwards. Adam presses his thighs down.

“Easy, tiger.” He casts his eyes upward, and Ronan is looking at him intently with heavy-lidded eyes, eyelashes almost brushing his face.

“Dick,” Ronan breathes.

“Please leave Gansey out of this.”

Ronan barks out a laugh, which turns into a choked gasp as Adam mouths at his erection again. “Fuck—oh, ohh— _shit._ ” Ronan grabs Adam’s head, fingers carding through his hair, pulling just a tiny bit and it’s Adam’s turn to gasp.

“ _Jesus_.”

“Langua— _ah_!”

Adam tugs the panties down, just enough to free Ronan but not quite taking it off. There’s definitely a ripping sound that came with it and it only serves to thrill him more. He wastes no time in taking Ronan’s cock into his mouth, bobbing his head a few times before licking the entire length.

“Fuck, you’re, you’re—ahh, fuck!” Ronan’s nails dig into Adam’s scalp he brushes his lips against the sensitive skin, grasping the base and twisting his hand.

He takes him in again, and Ronan meets him halfway, lifting his hips and fucking his mouth. His exclamations of _fuck_ , _shit_ , _more_ , and _Adam_ (not in that particular order) are rising in volume and decreasing in coherence, but it’s not like Adam needs more encouragement. He’s only vaguely aware of the sounds he’s making as he speeds up his strokes and increases the pressure, hollowing his cheeks, his lips touching his fist as he moves.

“Wait—”

His head snaps up, and panic clutches him. Did he hurt Ronan?

“Where’s Chainsaw? I don’t want her to see this, she’s too _young_ —”

“Oh my—fuck you, Lynch,” Adam continuous his efforts with renewed vigor, but he’s laughing a little because Ronan is absurd and unbelievable and he loves him _so much_ , it’s absurd and unbelievable in its own right.

The vibrations have Ronan arching his back, groaning desperately, his hand tightening on Adam’s hair. Adam knows he’s close, so he cups his balls and squeezes lightly, while he licks at the slit and that’s it. Ronan comes in a surprisingly soundless shout, legs clamping Adam’s head, and Adam swallows it all.

“Fucking hell,” says Ronan, hoarse and breathless. It makes him genuinely happy seeing Ronan like this, sated and peaceful as he waits to come down from his orgasm.

Adam leaves him to it, making quick work of his belt to take care of his own needs.

“What the fuck, Parrish.” Ronan sounds genuinely offended, looking up at him. He props himself up to a sitting position, and pulls Adam to his lap again.

“Just—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Ronan pulls his pants and boxers down in one tug at the same time he kisses Adam hard, their teeth clacking. His hand envelopes Adam’s length, and it only takes a few deliberate strokes until Adam is coming, his moans swallowed by Ronan completely.

 When he’s calmed down, they fall sideways onto their pillows, exhausted.

Ronan laughs, breaking the quiet.

“What.”

“Nothing, I just. You kinky bastard,” he snorts and Adam shoves him.

Then he notices the lace, ruined now, teared and stained. He laments the loss for maybe two seconds. Ronan notices him looking.

“Sorry about the underwear.”

Adam takes off shirt to wipe them off and gently takes the lingerie off Ronan. He nestles into Ronan’s waiting arms after he finishes, content. Dinner can wait. The world can wait.

“Don’t worry about it.”

* * *

When Adam comes home the next week there are several things waiting for him: Matthew’s winded complaint about lady’s underwear strewn about the house among the menagerie of sleeping paraphernalia, despite none of them having girlfriends (“ _Duh_ , Adam, unless my brother is cheating on you, which, let’s face it, he’d literally eat every bit of lace and satin and _fishnet_ , God Almighty, in here before it even crosses his mind,” all in one breath, because Matthew is precious like that), a Victoria’s Secret gift card and a blue babydoll set (yes, this is his life now, he knows underwear jargon) laid out on their bed.

Adam feels rather than knows that it’s the exact same shade of his eyes, Ronan being the sap that he is.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Visuals: [1](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/97/61/0d/97610d5fb2e581e215d358fdedf90245.jpg) [2](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e5/aa/c6/e5aac68fdf49ffcde7bac56050ec4da9.jpg) [3](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/30/ff/4c/30ff4c642c73bb4c351017bef57b7074.jpg)
> 
> I cannot believe it took me three days to finish this, I kept stopping because I'm a blushing virgin and a loser besides. LITERALLY COULDN'T. FIRST SMUT. 
> 
> Anyway,  
> 1\. The nearest Ivy League is about 6 hours ?? away sorry idk American geography I'm from so far away??? Gansey and Adam usually drive down.  
> 2\. Like Adam, Matthew goes home on weekends.  
> 3\. Ronan takes up the farmer/herder life, the dork.
> 
> Will probably edit this once I'm more ??? Awake pls forgive me I've been staring at the screen too long and don't know right from wrong anymore I neeD JESUS
> 
> Also I'm on tumblr: ronanov


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